Wooden Swords and Ballet Shoes
by Soul-Over-Mind
Summary: "You were born to torture me" she said. "No...I was born to be with you...in every way..." he stated, adding "... till the end of my existence." A different kind of addiction. BXE, Adult Themes.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **Twilight or it's characters belong to Stephanie Meyer. I own this plot.

**A/N: I would kindly request every minor reader not to read this story. There are excellent stories for all of you. Please let the M rated stories for later.**

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**Wooden Swords and Ballet Shoes**

**Summary:**

"You were born to torture me," she said.

"No...I was born to be with you...in every way..." he stated adding "...till the end of my existence."

A different kind of addiction.

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**Chapter one : Prologue**

The rain was wild. It was one of those nights you feel there is a hostility in the drops of water, like a sense of waiting for some kind of punishment, instead of the poetic purification. Bella was curled on the sofa in a fatal position. She was in the same state for about three days.

The room was intentionally dark. No lights on, no screens, no candles, just a red small dot flashing on the phone machine. Bella had already disabled her cell phone. The only thing connecting her with the world outside was that red small dot. She was in debate about disconnecting the wire or let the red dot live. She wanted to disappear. An image of her closet in her old bedroom was tantalizing her mind.

"Would I fit in there now? Would anybody search for me there?" she thought, and tighten her hold of the soft blanket around her, her basic kind of clothing for the last 72 hours. Her mind traveled miles away, in that old closet, searching for a particular rectangular, dark green box. She could almost imagine the feeling of touching the hard expensive paper, always with hesitation.

Every time she opened that box was like a ritual. It's first contents had the exact opposite texture of the container. Ivory satin and lace and black satin and lace. Two pairs fighting in the same box.

The first was a gift from her mother in order to exorcise her clumsiness.

The second was a gift from her past.

That past was sitting in a car outside her apartment under the dim light of the street lamp and…waited.

Bella had lost the track of time. Slowly moving, she almost crawled from the couch on the floor.

She wanted to make sure he was still there. No, she needed to make sure he was still there.

In a state of blur she managed to stand up. Her curtain combined with the rain was a good coverage. Not that he did not know she was there. He always knew.

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In the car the driver had, despite the rain, the window open. He needed the air.

"I know you are there," he thought and laid his head on the drivers wheel. " It's getting worse."

Nausea, his faithful companion. No drug could work on it. Nothing except a certain smell, a certain female presence. He could not even drive away. He could barely think.

The feeling was excruciating. He had tried everything. No medical treatment or therapy had worked.

Permanent state of nausea.

Only her presence was enough to make the dizziness go away and...she knew it.

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**A/N: Please review, keeps me out of nausea and makes me type sooner.**


	2. Chapter 2

******Disclaimer: **Twilight or its characters belong to Stephanie Meyer. I own this plot.

**A/N: I would kindly request every minor reader not to read this story. There are excellent stories for all of you. Please let the M rated stories for later. ****Thanks to all of you who reviewed and put this story on alert.**

**A HUGE hug to Crackupmonkey for reading, supporting my drafts and inspiring some of the events in this chapter.**

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* * *

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**Wooden Swords and Ballet Shoes**

**Summary:**

"You were born to torture me"she said.

"No...I was born to be with you...in every way...", he stated adding "..till the end of my existence."

A different kind of addiction.

* * *

**Chapter two:** Childhood – the swords.

Bella took a last glimpse and crawled back at the couch. She had her confirmation . He was still there. The weakness was making her moves slower … Each time she needed to shift and change position the feeling of the loss of power was more evident. For three days she had not seen or spoke to someone. She couldn't. She was feeling helpless and the worst part was that she literally … was.

There was no one who could offer her a solution to her current problem. To ... THEIR current problem.

It was a situation only the two of them could deal and they were in a dead end.

"Dead end, how suitable", she thought and laid one more time on the soft pillows, lazily rearranging the blanket around her. Her eyes were starting to fall, like silent traitors, delivering her to the punishing universe of Morpheus. Before her total surrender she searched for the small object on her coffee table. The reason behind the huge fight they had three days ago.

It was the drop that overflowed the cup.

A few meters away the driver was just escaping from that dark universe of sleep. Sleep was always a pleasant interval for Edward. It was usually very deep and comforting, a gift for humans that he had learned to appreciate since the day he was born. If someone had the ability to measure the hours of sleep he had during his early life, he would be impressed if not worried by the number. It would seem like his life was a large number of daily breaks from a constant state of unconsciousness. For years it was the only way to sufficiently deal with his sickness, until the day he met Bella.

Breathing the fresh air once more he went back in time, remembering, repeating, searching for all the things that had lead to the disaster, 72 hours ago.

It all had started long before they had even met, when they both knew almost nothing about real life and could not imagine the trip fate had kept for them. It all had started from Chicago where his family lived before moving to Forks Washington.

Since birth Edward was suffering from a severe case of nausea. At first it was the extreme vomiting. His father, Dr Carlisle Cullen – a surgeon himself- had taken him to very prestigious pediatricians and specialists. The first conclusion was that Edward was probably very sensitive to food . They had tried many different diets, but there was no real explanation at the time.

Another peculiar thing was that instead of him reducing his sleeping hours while aging, he was increasing them, month after month. Carlisle was sure that something else was the cause. Watching carefully the baby's reaction through various activities he had come to the conclusion that his son's condition was due to a factor nobody had measured since the beginning. The little creature was crying and getting sick when they were putting him to his swinging crib, or when Esme - his mother - was rocking him in her arms. The same thing happened each time he was throwing him up in the air or swirling him around, things a father usually enjoy sharing with his kid. Being in the car was the worst case... until then. When he started talking, Edward was clearly declaring his denial to things children were usually craving for.

Visits in playgrounds, swimming, even dancing awkwardly like toddlers usually do on birthdays and other occasions. A second round of tests confirmed Carlisle's suspicions.

Permanent state of nausea.

When he was kind of diagnosed at the age of two about his disorder the doctors had assumed that aging would make the symptoms less until they would disappear. It only became worse. Various medical explanations were searched again, like stomach malfunction, food allergy's, ear-fluid dis-equivalence, bulimia. They had focused mainly in the part of motion sickness since the symptoms were more obvious. There was a 10% percent of patients who suffered from disorders of this form with no specific explanations. The doctors finally put Edward in that percentage, unable to find the reason and focused into finding a treatment if not a cure.

At the age of two Edward started taking medicines. Strong drugs were out of the question. He was still a baby. His parents had consented only in mild treatment in order to minimize the vomiting and of course the possibility of dehydration. Anything stronger would be dangerous for the good function of vital organs like liver and kidneys. The treatment had some positive effects but nothing impressive. The extreme hours of sleep were explained as his system's correspondence to his problem. It could be an organic or psychological effect. They also could not come to a solid diagnosis about it. They had to wait.

The Cullens loved both Edward and his older brother Emmet beyond anything. Without hesitation they adjusted. Emmet despite the fact that he was only three years older than the baby, had shown a very mature reaction to his brother's health issues. Their whole life was always around what Edward could or could not do or where he could or could not go. His system was reacting badly each time they had to use the car or the bus. Generally any mean of transportation was giving him a hard time with planes and boats as the worst. The only way to travel was with sleeping pills. Doctors had warned both Esme and Carlisle that he could easily get addicted to them. Without a second thought they stopped any unnecessary transportation.

By the age of six Edward was fully aware of his condition. His parents were constantly trying to avoid his questions but he was a very perceptive boy. When he asked them why they never went anywhere anymore they had explained everything to him without lying. He would have found the answer anyway.

It was a great burden for a child to know that his family had to avoid normal vacations in order to not exclude him.

School trips were another disturbing matter. He was usually excused by doctors order since the two times he had insisted on going the whole bus had a problem with him vomiting inside. School had already started to be a problem. He was feeling miserable and was sleeping more and more everyday. Esme was literally dressing him asleep in order to prepare him on time. It was a very difficult year.

His regular tests had shown no significant progress. A close friend of Carlisle advised them to look in a different direction. Chicago was a big city. It had long distances, noise, pollution and it was crowded. A smaller place, away from traffic, gases, dirty streets, could be a benefit for the whole family. Esme had already given up her job in order to be close to Edward. She could not trust any stranger watching him. Carlisle had increased his working hours in the hospital in order to preserve their income in a high level. He was also working on research. His son's case was the most intriguing thing of his medical career and he was going to do everything in his power in order to give him a better life. Unfortunately the time was never enough and the progress almost zero.

They literally had no life there. Finally they made the decision to leave. Both their children were suffering there. They had to at least try. The summer Edward became seven years old they moved to Forks.

The choice of Washington State was not random. Carlisle's parents had left him a house they had bought after their retirement but he was always too busy to visit them.

It was a great opportunity for the family to experience life in a place with clean air and water, beautiful nature, in a town someone could walk in safety and go everywhere on foot. The mountains around were perfect for weekend excursions, hiking and camping. They would not even need to use any car at all. They had chosen the plane for that trip. Edward of course had to travel almost in a comma but it was the fastest way. A week after their arrival school started and soon the first happy memories of his childhood. The were all connected to Bella.

Their house was at the end of the small town, surrounded by trees and lawns. Despite the constant rain, the four of them had loved that place from the beginning. It was far enough from the center giving them privacy and quiet but close enough for someone to walk to the school or to the hospital.

The first days they all were trying to get accustomed to their new environments.

Carlisle was very welcomed at the hospital. The position was open for months before he applied there. Apparently, it was not appealing enough for his colleagues who were usually chasing challenges in their fields.

Esme had more time to finally work on something else except Edward. The walk to and back to school was only about half an hour. Long gone were the almost two hours drives each day through the huge traffic of Chicago with a sleeping Edward in the back seat. She had started working on the house. Before her younger's son birth she was working as an interior designer. The old building was well preserved but some improvements were shouting to be made. It had also given her the opportunity to explore the town and the people there. The parents meeting at the beginning of the year was a blessing. People had welcomed the young couple with kindness and warmth.

Their first invitation to a local event was one of the outcomes of that meeting.

Three weeks after the school had started there was a local festival were people were sharing food and drinks and children were participating in small theater sketches, wearing costumes. Shakespeare was the theme for that year. There were small prizes for everyone. Esme had thought that it would be an excellent idea for her two boys to participate. Emmet was already ten. He had chosen the race with fake horses. They were just skates with horse's heads, made of colorful fabrics.

Edward was a little hesitant. One day while leaving school Esme had watched him eying two boys fighting with fake wooden swords in the park opposite to the school. It was one of the challenges.

The older Edward had a very clear memory of that day. Tilting his head until it reached the head of the driver's seat, he started bringing back the conversation he had with his mother.

Esme had lowered her body and once she was in his eyes level she had softly asked him.

"Sweetheart , would you like us to do something today together? I have to get some things for the house. Do you care to help me?" Edward had nodded yes and followed her there. When they returned to the house she let him get out of the bags the stuff they had purchased while she was preparing dinner. Edward did not miss the fact that there were two light wooden boards among the other various products his mother had bought. It was a kind of wood very different from anything he had seen before. Soft and smooth and very very light. He had timidly approached his mother and asked:

"Mum, do you need these pieces of wood for the house?"a great smile flashed on Esme's eye's. She had guessed right.

"No honey, I bought them for you. Do you remember what we said before, about the two of us doing something together?" Edward had nodded yes looking slightly confused.

"Well what do you say about me and you, making something nice with these boards after dinner, do you have any ideas how we can use them?" Esme asked while Emmet and Carlisle were entering the house looking tired but more alive than ever. They both stopped when they noticed them. Esme nodded at them not to speak. These private moments between him and his mother were not rare. He was so focused on thinking, he was barely aware they were behind him. A few seconds later he answered.

"Mum, could we make swords with this? I would like to have one", he had said with a study voice.

"Of course honey, they are perfect for swords" Esme had answered right away. Her desperate attempt to hide the water inside her eyes did not went unnoticed by her son.

"And mum, do you think dad and Emmet would like to help us?", he finished looking straight at her with anticipation.

Esme could not hold her emotions. Carlisle, who was patiently watching the tender conversation, saved the moment.

"Of course we will son", he had heard him saying while overwhelmed by excitement he felt him smoothly grabbing him and throwing him in the air. The sense of dizziness was there in one second. Before he had landed safely in his father's arms he saw Esme's face transformed into a picture of horror and heard Emmet screaming "Dad, no...".

For a few seconds the four of them had stayed frozen. A familiar bile had already started rising in his throat, ready to become the traitor of his weakness. He did not let it … that time.

He gulped deeply and then spoke.

"Mum, dad, it's okay, I'm okay …. I think."

Carlisle slowly put him down inspecting his face for any indication of discomfort. He knew he was probably white as usually but he was not going to take it back.

Esme was still … waiting.

Finally it was Emmet the one who broke the silence.

"Come on carrot head, we have to eat. If I'm going to help you with the sword I want one too and I cannot work without a decent meal, what do you say?", his brother who was twice his size asked him with a devious smirk on his face.

"Hm, okay but ….we will do it after dinner...?" he asked looking from Emmet to Esme and from Esme to his father, expecting their reassurance and cooperation.

A feeling of relief had spread inside him when he saw their faces soften. The agony was gone.

"Of course sweetheart, of course", his mother had confirmed before they all gathered around the table.

That evening the four of them had sat in front of the fireplace , cutting the soft boards, painting and polishing them, laughing and joking like a normal family. It was the first time Edward had not fallen in deep sleep after dinner and also the first day he had asked to participate in an activity with enthusiasm. The next morning two beautiful little swords were on the kitchen table, totally dried and ready for battle.

Older Edward's eyes were still closed as was enjoying those pleasant memories from his childhood.

He blindingly stretched his right arm and slowly caressed the smooth surface of the object he had brought with him. It stood motionless on the passenger's seat, patiently keeping him company in the dark cabin of his Volvo. Without removing his hand he looked one more time towards the window across the street. Nothing had changed. Frustrated, he laid again his head on the stirring wheel and tried to continue his exploration to the high lighted parts of his past.

He remembered how the next day Emmet had taught him to use his sword. Due to his condition he had minimum interaction with other boys. Back in Chicago he was constantly sick or asleep, sometimes even in class and children were too cruel with him. Nobody wanted to be close to a boy who was vomiting nearly every week and was too weak to participate in sports, parties and of course … fights. If Emmet was not constantly supporting him as a real brother children would make fun of him all the time and he would probably be the victim in those fights.

He had turned his focus in more gentle hobbies, like music and reading but he craved the company. Being an outcast at the age of six was not something a child could easily accept. Forks had been the ground he needed to overcome his obstacles.

Emmet was very careful while fighting with his little brother. Just an intense swirling or a series of very quick moves could easily disorient Edward and provoke intense nausea. He was still in medication but the results were poor. He taught him to make short but strong moves and stay well on his feet. It would help him make the opposite contestant follow his rhythm. It was a technique based more on strategy, speed and key moves than strength and forwardness. A technique Edward kept using later in his life. They rehearsed many times until Emmet was sure he was ready to contest.

A day before the festival all children went to choose their costumes. They had to pick a name from a bowl full with tiny wrapped folded papers. Edwards name was Romeo. That day they were also supposed to participate in a rehearsal for the events. His opponent contestant would be Tybalt. It was a strong boy with dark colors and very athletic physic. He was from the school of the native Americans reservation near La Push.

Despite his newly found life Edward was still looking small and anorexic. The boy had intimidated him with the first look.

Esme was watching him carefully as their first awkward movements were evolving in stronger and more calculative ones. He was trying hard to do what Emmet had taught him but the boy was too strong. Unfortunately his brother was not with him that day. A few minutes after the start his "enemy's " hits became much faster and forceful making him loose control.

Edward had started to feel dizzy watching the opposite sword becoming a dancing black line in front of his eyes. He had started to back up when the boy clearly thrilled by his superiority was running around him yelling " fight, fight, fight …".

The nausea had finally won … again. Unable to hold the sword anymore he dropped it on the ground and fell on his knees with his eyes closed, fighting , but not the boy anymore. He remembered a devastated Esme holding him and whispering "It's okay sweety" in his ear and the voices of the other children, yelling disapprovingly.

He had closed his eyes and was about to throw up in front of everybody when he felt it. A soft nudge on his left shoulder and the most soothing and beautiful smell around his nose. Breathing hard and deeply, he savored it hungrily like a starving person in front of the most delicious meal. The dizziness had started to subside giving her place to a sense of sturdiness and strength. He was feeling … healthy. Breathing one more time he exhaled slowly and turned his head towards the source of that delightful smell.

He saw a small thin girl, in a ballet costume, looking at him with kindness and offering him his sword. His mother was about to say something when the little girl spoke:

"Hm … hi ...you, you dropped this", she said and stretched her small hand towards his patiently.

For a few seconds he was just looking from the girl to his sword and then back again.

"Your sword is … very pretty", the girl continued, but he was still just looking at her.

"Edward ?" His mother's voice distracted him and got him out of the awkward staring.

"Thank you", he told her and simply took the sword. A different female voice broke the spell completely.

"Come on honey, we will be late", he heard the woman who was holding the girl from her other hand calling her. He watched in awe as she was leaving still looking at him. In a few minutes they both disappeared inside a building opposite to the park were the festival would take place.

The need to run and follow her was rising inside him like the bile he was so hard trying to suppress before. And he would have if the yells behind him had not made him turn and face all of those boys. The little disgusting bullies he thought he had left back at his old school. Anger conquered him in seconds. The image of an almost crying Esme trying to hold him back and convince him to let it go, had never left his mind. His reaction was for her. He swapped the sword with his right hand and went straight at the boy who had provoked him in the first place. A few minutes later he left with the confidence of the winner and the pride of a mother surrounding him like a blanket of tenderness and love.

The sweet memory of his younger mother glowing like he had never seen her before was curved like a scar inside him. That night Esme did not sleep. She had stayed awake rearranging Edward's costume and bringing it to his size, remembering the sparkle in her son's beautiful green eyes as he was describing his fight to his father and his brother. And that specific day that green color could only be compared with the vibrant green of the lawns around their house.

Esme was not aware of what had really happened out there but the mother's instinct had worked one more time. There was another strange event that day. Before leaving the park, Edward had insisted on going to that building opposite to the park. She had let him go and stayed behind to get the costume, never leaving him from her stare. She had watched him with curiosity stretching his small body and looking through the large windows of the building with his hands and face glued on the stained from the rain glass. She had missed him for a few seconds when it was her turn in the line among the other parents waiting. When she returned her gaze she found him next to her , looking happy and content, holding his precious sword on his heart.

Older Edward shifted slightly on his seat, overwhelmed by the strong feeling of nostalgia and tired by the dizziness that was ghosting his head. Years later after that day, he and Bella had put that sword inside her green box, where they were keeping every important piece of their common life for the last two decades.

**A/N:I****f you think I should continue,** chapter three will come soon. Till then , please take the time and leave some comments about the idea . Reviews are more than welcomed. Thank you all for reading.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **Twilight or its characters belong to Stephanie Meyer. I own this plot.

**A/N: **I am here again. Special thanks to **Crackupmonkey** for pre-reading my notes about this chapter months ago. This chapter is not beta'd.

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**Wooden Swords and Ballet Shoes**

**Chapter ****three****:** The scarf.

He remembered the box. Like a drug addict he sniffed. The scarf. It was old and the smell was weak but it was her.

Their life was in that box. Since the age of six and fom the last twenty years, everything important was in that box.

Their first meeting, Bella's corsage from the Prom, photographs, a cd with Edward's music.

Every New years Eve they were putting something important in that box.

After that wonderful day at the park, little Edward kept visiting the building with the large windows almost every afternoon. It was a local ballet school and he could watch Bella trying to keep up with the rest of her class. She was not a charismatic dancer, but to Edward's eyes, the small girl with the wonderful smell was perfect.

Luck was with him. She was at his school. A few days later, he and Esme had spotted her waiting outside school, obviously for someone to pick her up. Edward run and stopped in front of her, enjoying her delicate fragrance before he introduced himself.

"_Hello, my name is Edward Cullen. Can we be friends?"_

The girl blushed and a few seconds later she nodded yes, recognizing the thin boy that was looking at her with adoration every afternoon.

"_I'm Bella," _she shyly spoke just as her mother approached them. Renee was kind to Edward and Esme. She had heard of the new family and had seen the pale boy at the festival. Her mother's instinct had caught Esme's over-protectiveness and Edward's fascination towards Bella. He could not keep his eyes away from her. But the young woman ha a lot going on inside her mind , much more important than her daughter's friends.

Both women helped them come close. The kids soon became inseparable.

Esme was thrilled that a girl was often at their house. A girl that made her son look happy and healthier than ever. His best friend. Everything was fine until the day Edward found Bella outside their porch crying. Renee was leaving her father. She was taking her daughter with her. And everything changed.

The scarf was from the first time they got separated.

Bella didn't expect to see Edward at the airport. She had promised to call him and come back soon. Minutes before her flight she saw him with teary eyes looking at her through the glass separating them. Esme stood being him, always worried, covering her mouth with her palm. She didn't know what to do, but Bella knew. She walked and stood in front of him, and put her palms on the glass between them, exactly mirroring his position. They stayed like this for a few seconds staring at each other. Edward with need and Bella with compassion. She took of the scarf she was wearing and gave it to a puzzled Charlie while kissing him goodbye. She returned to her previous position, in front of a devastated boy.

A guard was about to walk and prevent him but Charlie gave him a murderous look and nodded for him to stop. Thank god his uniform was very helpful.

Charlie was already next to Edward giving him the soft cotton piece of fabric, all with Bella's scent. Esme mouthed "Thank you" and hope had brighten her face. It was her favorite garment.

Edward then knew she would come back for it. And he could wait.

He took the scarf, savored the smell and wrapped it on his wrist. He had kept it with him all those days and gave it to her when she returned. He never let Esme wash it. From that day, whenever she had to go away, she always left something for him behind.

But still, nobody knew it was all about the soothing effect of her smell on him.

Nobody except Edward.

~o~

" It has fainted," he thought, as frustration drew hard lines on his forehead. He took another deep breath and let the soft piece of wool fall on the passenger's seat beside him. His hand mechanically grabbed the phone and Bella's number lightened the screen. For the hundredth time the answering machine responded with a cold message, telling him that the line was off.

He just left another message, always hoping for an answer.

"I need you. More than ever...More than always. More ..."

He never finished his line. Edward's power left him unconscious on the steering wheel and the rain was the only sound left for the rest of the message.

**A/N: Looking forward for your thoughts. Thank you.**


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